Happy Deepavali

The festival season is in full swing, with Divali (Deepavali, in the south) alight with fireworks, candles, and oil lamps.Deepa in Sanskrit means 'light' and avali means 'a row'.

Diwali is celebrated in north India in honor of Rama's return to Ayodhya after vanquishing Ravana; in Gujarat, to welcome Goddess Lakshmi. Bengalis worship Goddess Kali on this day. Firerackers are set off in the early hours of the morning. Children wake up to the so-called Atomic Bombs ushering in a day of sweets-eating (Thenkozhal, Ribbon Pakoda, Rava Ladu, and Almond Burfi) in brand new clothes -- after the dreaded oil-bath of course.

Here is an excerpt from my novel Rescuing Ranu that has to do with the celebration:

One night, long before dawn, Nela awoke to the sound of
fireworks. Someone else might have identified it as gunfire, but this
pop was distinctive, and immediately brought her childhood back to
her. It was Divali, the Festival of Lights celebrating Rama's
triumphant homecoming after killing a foe, the time of year when
she and Ramesh would rush out of the house after an excited, light
sleep, armed with Atomic Bombs, and Flowerpots. Arms full of
firecrackers saved for and selected weeks before, they would race to
the gymkhana across the street. No matter how early, there were
always children already there, waiting for the brother and sister
famous for balancing the flaming flowerpots on the vertical bars of
the chain link fence and setting off the fuse of the Chinese crackers.
Soon the night bloomed with burning flowers, hovering over whole
neighborhoods before dissolving.

Now Nela rubbed the sleep from her eyes and opened the front
door. There was Ranu, crouched in the fallow garden, setting off a
few tiny blazes. The path from the kitchen door to the plot had been
lined by diya pots, and a kolam made from rice paste drawn outside
the porch. How long it must have taken Ranu to do this! Nela ducked
inside before the child noticed her and the surprise was spoiled. She
went to her bookshelves. The child needed a Diwali gift! There was
no time now to make traditional sweets or buy new clothes, but a
book would do. Nela picked up her Gita and drew her finger along
the spine, rubbed her thumbs over the embossed cover. How could
she part with this piece of her history? Chitti had given the book to
her when she was still too young to understand it, although she
could have recited any story from it on the spot.

She took the volume out to Ranu. "Happy Diwali," she said. "This
was my auntie's book. You have seen it before, at the hut. Chitti gave
it to me, and now I give it to you." The child received the book with
open palms.